The 154th Hunger Games
by Pureluckofacareer
Summary: Tributes. I could only hope that those weren't my children. I had failed in the rebellion. I wouldn't wish that torture on even the cruelest soul. Let them burn. Let every Capitol citizen burn. In my fire. For I am the Mockingjay. -From the Diary of Katniss Everdeen


District 1: Reapings.

(Jeremiah Ridley, Age: 16)

"Jeremiah, if you don't get up now you won't be able to volunteer." My mother chastised. It took a few moments for my brain to realize this, and I leaped out of bed. Quickly, I brushed my teeth and dug through my closet. Just as I had the perfect outfit to volunteer in, my sister Thailia ran in. She was dressed in a white spaghetti strap dress, with a blood red sash around it. She looked at my clothes, then at me. Her eyebrows came together and she shook her head.

"This won't do" Thailia pursed her lips together, reached into my closet and pulled out a white long-sleeved polo shirt with black jeans. I had to admire her taste. It went well with my ocean blue eyes and oak colored hair. "Thanks Sis," I nodded, slipping into the clothes. My sister giggled, and I rolled my eyes, while walking out the door.

(Fashion Miller, Age: 15)

I looked into my parent's eyes defiantly, careful not to show too much defiance. For lest they find out I didn't want to volunteer and scold me, or even disown me. "You are volunteering Fashion, maybe when you win; you can make up for Silk. You know she dishonored our family." My Father said. I could feel tears behind my eyes, and I fought hard to hold them back. I glanced at my Mother, her eyes were wet too. But I said nothing. She understood the pain. She herself was the victor of the 132nd Hunger Games. My Father had won the 131st Hunger Games. But yet he held no sympathy for the lives he took. That was what had separated them in their own way.

Just as I was about to say more the doorbell rang and my two best friends Perfume and Cloth stood at the door. Perfume stood in front of Cloth, Her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, she looked really nice in her green dress. Cloth looked at me, the worry clear in his eyes. He was the only one that knew I was volunteering. I felt her heart ache at the thought of never seeing him again.

"I'm so ready for this year's reaping!" Perfume began, "I am so volunteering." I kept silent at her remark. She looked at me, as if I should respond, but I was focusing on something else. The stage stood at the center of district. Our town square. The announcer was dressed in a blue outfit with a matching skirt. She began drabbling on about the Dark Days and the rebellion. I had heard it three times before. I didn't want to hear it again. Then she began the reaping.

(Jeremiah Ridley, Age:16)

"Well, let us start with our male tribute." The announcer began. "Sterek Dilita!"

"I Volunteer!" I screamed, storming up to the stage. The boy nodded in thanks, scurrying off stage.

"We have our volunteer!" She cheered, giving me a hug. It felt awkward. I forced a smile, and declared my name. "Jeremiah Ridley is here to win!" I yelled. The crowd went wild. I could tell they were happy I was the male tribute. Well what could I say? I am freaking hot.

"For our female tribute we have" The announcer started, and then a girl screamed out.

"I Volunteer!" she ran up to the stage. She was kind of pretty, with her wavy brown hair and innocent hazel eyes. She said her name was Fashion Miller. It seemed odd, but not really. I think her parents were both victors of previous games. I was dead. She would kill me. That would be that. I decided to avoid her. But neither of us were ready for what came next. Suddenly a yell broke through the crowd and gunshots were fired. I tried to look at the lifeless body below, but I couldn't.

(Fashion Miller, Age: 15)

I sat in the room that we said our final goodbyes in. My family came in first. I barely spoke to them. My brother Denim Jr. spoke only about how lucky I was to be competing. They left soon after. Then Perfume came in. Her eyes glistening with tears.

"Whats wrong?" I asked. _Where was Cloth? I thought_. She started to speak but burst into wails. I thought back to the reaping. The gunshot, the body, Cloth. This time I didn't hold back my tears. I hung on to Perfume, sobbing. Cloth, my only crush, dead. Because he couldn't control himself at the reaping. It was my fault, all my fault. I shouldn't have volunteered. He wouldn't have yelled in fear and anger, they wouldn't have killed him. Suddenly Perfume was ripped from my arms, and pushed into the hallway. I saw Jeremiah walk onto the train. I followed in pursuit, the tears still fresh on my cheeks.

**So what did you guys think? :D R&R.**


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